An Unfortunate Recovery
by ejhawman
Summary: Up for adoption: Something is recovered early, with unfortunate consequences.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

An idea for changing Harry's life from a point early in the books.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Delphina Miller ran as if the hounds of Hell were after her. It was worse than that: her pursuer was no mere demonic dog - it was a Hogwarts prefect.

She made it to the stairs, Fanged Frisbee still in hand, and began to ascend. She paused to catch her breath at the top, ran again as she heard the prefect's steps rising behind her: he must be in better shape. She looked about, looking for an empty classroom or broom closet - someplace to hide her contraband. All the rooms were either in use or locked.

The prefect - she thought it was a Gryffindor, but wasn't about to stop and look to be sure - was now on the same floor. She managed to stay just our of sight, circling around the corridors. Maybe she could get back to the stairs and lose him on another floor -

Hmmm. That door looked out of place. She was sure she had passed this section of corridor twice already. She ran to the door and put her shoulder to it - jackpot! A storage room of some kind, lots of furniture. She ran into the paths between piles, looking for a good place to bury herself until the prefect gave up the chase.

There, under that desk. She crawled under it, a rug draped over it, offering good concealment. The prefect's footsteps passed by the door... and receded. He had not come inside.

She was a Ravenclaw; not being particularly smart just now, taking contraband to school, but not stupid enough to expect her pursuer to break off easily. She waited several minutes to be sure. When she was, she crawled out and looked around.

There was all manner of junk here: broken furniture, storage racks and binds full of flasks and instruments, posters, broomsticks... she looked over the models and was disappointed to find nothing more recent than a Comet 135. Their Seeker could have used something faster than a 210.

Plenty of Fanged Frisbees already here. She felt embarrassed. How many students before her had found this place? Well, if hers was confiscated, she now knew where to get a free replacement. A cabinet, an old bust... a glint caught her eye. A tiara. She picked it up, examined it. Tarnished, maybe good for practicing a Polishing Charm. She pocketed it and headed for the exit.

She left the frisbee on a chair right next to the door. This pace shouldn't be too hard to find, seventh floor, toward the outer wall. She would fetch it back later, when no prefects were about.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"_Expolio! ...Expolio! ...Expolio!"_

Adelle Sommers was getting annoyed. She could hardly concentrate on her Potions essay over Dephina's attempts to practice the Polishing Charm. She was normally a good sport, but twenty minutes straight of trying a single charm was just too much. It was time to put her foot down.

"Give up, Del. You're embarrassing yourself and the whole house. A Ravenclaw should never take more than ten minutes to master that charm."

"It wasn't so hard in class," Delphina said. "I can't imagine why it doesn't want to work for me now. Could it be the time of day? i think I remember something from Astronomy..."

"Wouldn't be that bad," Adelle said. Delphina was only third year, she might not know the details of daily timing covered later in that year. "What are you using?"

"Some old diadem. I found it in a storeroom on the seventh floor."

Adelle regarded the diadem. It was pretty badly tarnished. Even clumsy attempts to polish it should show some brightening. She pulled out her own wand and cast the charm at it - to no effect.

"No way. I KNOW this charm." She repeated it twice, still without effect. "Okay, something is definitely wrong here."

She looked about the common room; there was 6th year prefect Elaine Richmond across the room. "Elaine... wonder if you could explain this for us? This diadem won't polish."

Elaine came over and examined the diadem. "Maybe there's some enchantment on it interfering. Don't think any of us would be up to that... hang on a minute... this looks familiar... where did you say you got this?"

"Storeroom on the seventh floor," Delphina aid again. "There was a bunch of trash there, but this looked like it might be too valuable for trash. I thought it might have belonged to someone from our house. It has our motto on it."

They all looked very closely at the diadem; it had the motto "With Beyond Measure Is Man's Greatest Treasure" in Old English letters on its main plate.

"No way... This might be..." Elaine took the diadem over to the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and held it up to the head, comparing it to the diadem on the statue. They were a match. "Ed just HAS to see this!"

She ran to get their seventh-year prefect, Edward Nelson. "Ed! I think you should see this."

Edward came out of the prefects' room. "Something up, Elaine?"

"I think Delphina just found the Diadem of Ravenclaw." She offered the diadem to Edward.

He looked at it closely, then compared it to the statue as Elaine had. "Could be. Or could be just a knockoff someone made up practicing for another class, or as a private project. Professor Flitwick will know for sure. I'll have him take a look in the morning."

Delphina could barely sleep that night, excited that she might be about to earn Ravenclaw house more points than had been awarded for any one act in centuries.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning Edward took the diadem down to breakfast and offered it to Flitwick after they had both eaten. "Delphina Miller found this yesterday. We thought it might be a cheap knockoff that someone put some enchantment on, figured you might know for sure. Have you seen it anywhere?"

The goblin wizard examined the diadem, then put it down on the staff table and did a few passes with his wand, some incantations for revealing magical properties, observing the resulting glows given off. His eyes went wide as saucers. "Merlin's beard! Albus, you may want to see this."

Professor Dumbledore came over and tried a few spells of his own. "My, my. it does appear there is a distinct possibility that it could be from the Founders' time. I shall have to examine it more closely with some of my instruments. If it is truly to Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw herself... I should be in quite the bind as to how to reward you. It would be the find of the century!"

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Flitwick and his students went away to their classes. The Headmaster had nothing pressing for the next hour; he took it to his office and immediately took down his foremost expert on the Founders' Artifacts: one of their own number, the Sorting Hat. "Well, old friend, does this look familiar to you?"

The hat shifted and moved as a thing alive, forming something like a face above the rip in its fabric that served as a mouth. It seemed to be looking over its companion piece of headgear. "By Rowena's eyes and Godric's balls! It most definitely is hers! I've seen a few imitations over the years, but nothing as close as this. But there is something wrong with it. Some dark shadow over it."

"That would be the tarnish. I daresay the wisdom enhancement may be interfering with attempts to polish it." He held the diadem in one hand, nodding in appreciation. "So. The wisdom of Rowena Ravenclaw, finally recovered. I should think that I have more than enough to stay on top of our current troubles... but any special insights it might enable us to find, any possible advantage it may offer, is not to be refused..."

The glint in his eye was subtly different from the one seen by students. It was a glint of anticipation. He foresaw having a much easier time convincing others of the rightness of his decisions: a few minutes under this bit of jewelry, perhaps, and they would see things his way.

But he dared not trust that he knew best until he tried it himself. He could not dismiss the possibility that he was committing some subtle error of judgement. He could not help but second-guess himself. Perhaps the diadem would give him a new perspective on things, show him what he was overlooking. Perhaps he would find his way to some radically different strategy for dealing with Voldemort. Perhaps Harry need not be at risk.

Thinking of his young ward's welfare and future, Albus Dumbledore gently placed the Diadem of Ravenclaw on his head.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Great Merlin's Beard! What HAPPENED to him?"

"Looks like a curse. Rather nasty one."

"What type?"

"Not a common one, I can tell you that. Or an uncommon one, for that matter. Perhaps..." A few words chanted, a few wand passes. "Signs of an Imperius, but that wouldn't explain the burns..."

"Will he survive?"

"I'm amazed he lasted this long. He can't last the week..." Breaking up in sorrow. To say this of this man before her, a living legend...

"What could possibly do this to a wizard like him?"

"Wait... I think he's trying to say something..."

"...hh...hhh...horr...horrrr...kkkk...k-k-k-k...r-r-r-r...ooooo...kkk...ssssssssssss...

Gasps as they realized he was not simply making random sounds. "Horcrux? He thinks it was a horcurx?"

"Get more Calming Draught! Anything that might stablize him! He must know what happened..."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

The students had just settled down to eat breakfast in the Great Hall when Professor McGonagall called for quiet so that she could make an announcement. Delphina wondered if she were about to explain the Headmaster's absence from his seat at the staff table the past three days. As it happened, she was.

"May I have everyone's attention? Thank you. I'm afraid I have some rather disturbing news. It seems the Headmaster has developed an unexpected illness and will not be able to preside at the Leaving Feast. I advise that everyone give their prayers for a speedy recovery."

Delphina added her prayers. Professor Dumbledore had always struck her as a kind and friendly old man. He was forgiving of his students. You could get away with a lot under him. If he had to resign, that would make McGonagall Headmistress, and she would certainly run the school as a whole as tight as her classes. It would be a disaster for the students.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

The new Headmistress of Hogwarts sat heavily in her chair. Minerva McGonagall had never wanted this office; she was perfectly content to finish out her career as a professor. Let Albus handle the Board of Governors and rich Pureblood families and staffing matters. She suspected it was beyond her. Albus had never given her the impression that he had feared he couldn't do it when he started.

Albus would always be with the school now; his portrait occupied the central position of respect among the portraits in this room now. It was a poor substitute for the man himself, but it was the least they could do. She hoped her portrait might in time occupy one of the more shadowed corners. She would not want to overshadow the man she would always consider THE Headmaster.

She sighed and looked at the papers on his - well, HER - desk. She knew Severus would be happy to take the burden of this position from her. No doubt he was already in contact with the Board, whispering in ears, trying to shape opinions, give people ideas, floating plans. She might not have wanted this post, but she would be damned if she were going to let the likes of HIM set policy for the school. Phineas Nigellus would no longer enjoy the distinction of being regarded by history as the Worst Headmaster Ever.

She took up the parchments, trying to bury her grief in a mound of work. Much of it was routine, easily dealt with. Owls occasionally dropped off more of the same. Things didn't get interesting until the fireplace erupted in green flame and a Ministry courier - and actual human courier! - Flooed in.

It was last year's Head Boy. Courier service was a typical starting place for a Ministry career; he would be moving on from that within months. "From St. Mungo's, ma'am. About your predecessor."

"Thank you, Karl." She nodded to the young man, who simply nodded back and Flooed out without wasting further time. Minerva took up the parchments with a feeling of dread. Her heart lifted as she read through the medical report: He wasn't dead yet. She settled down to a slower reading... and by the end of it, she was wishing it HAD been word of his death.

She looked at the attached transcripts of his speech. Horcruxes? Plural? The staff had been content to humor his opinion that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not fully dead, that the war was not over. Now he offered a frighteningly plausible reason for his belief. A reason that the Healer's observations said had to be well-founded.

Minerva sank deeper into her chair. What was she going to tell Harry Potter? And when should she tell it? He was still so young... but she was not as sentimental as Albus Dumbledore. If the boy was in danger, she supposed it was doing him no favor to keep the truth from him.

She took in a deep breath, and began to work out how to break the news to the boy that he no longer had the luxury of being a child.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Up for adoption from this point.

Basic rule: The diadem has the same effect as Marvolo Gaunt's ring, but moreso, as it attacks the head directly, killing Dumbledore within days. He may or may not leave indications the ring was a Horcrux; may or may not know there is more than one; may or may not leave advice for McGonagall.

Fanged Frisbees were banned in 1994. With a suitable substitution of different contraband material, the above scenes can be set back as far as the mid-80's. Two particular options come to mind:

The scenes above happen in 1990. McGonagall becomes Headmistress. In 1991 she does not send Hagrid to fetch Harry: she knows how horrible the Dursleys are, and goes herself to check on Harry's status. Having much experience in bringing Muggleborns into the magical world, she is ready to give Harry the standard lectures. She observes as a cat before approaching in human form; she immediately sets in motion the paperwork to remove the Dursleys' custody. Harry is given the same briefing all Muggleborns are supposed to get. At the end of his first year, or even before, she will be inclined to explain many things to Harry. If she knew of the prophecy at this time, she would arrange for him to hear it.

Second option: The scenes occur in 1993, at the end of the school year. Dumbledore dies summer 1993. Again, if McGonagall knows of the prophecy at this time, she would arrange for him to hear it. She may start procedures to remove the Dursleys' custody, possibly with more of Harry's input than if he were younger. May decline opportunity for Triwizard Tournament to be held at Hogwarts, fearing it may ensnare Potter somehow.


End file.
